


Brave Soldier Boy

by Churbooseanon



Series: Brave Soldier Boy [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - War, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evening news says the war is over. So when is Church coming home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brave Soldier Boy

The evening news says the war is over.

For Caboose it ended months ago. Ended with the last letter he got from Church. Not because there was anything in particular in it to say that it was over, to imply that this ‘happy’ resolution was coming. Ended because there were no more letters from Church.

He calls Tucker when the news comes on and Tucker promises him that it means Church will finally get to come home. Caboose spends the next day cleaning. Learns to bake with Donut’s help. Washes the car and writes happy notes to leave all around the house so that when Church comes home he knows how much he was missed, how much he is loved.

Wash comes back first, the guy from down the street who had been their friend before it had all started and who had enlisted early because he believed. Church hadn’t believed. Church had only gone in to the recruitment center because Caboose had gone, had believed. They’d said no to Caboose. Said he couldn’t do it because he had an arrhythmia which meant it was dangerous for him to join up. He was in a different room from Church for that. They came back out and Church had a yes and he had a no.

Church has kissed him long and hard and promised to come back. Promised to win the war for him.

Now the war was won and Wash took him out drinking that first weekend because Caboose didn’t have anyone else.

The evening news says that the troops are coming home, that the first wave was already there and the next would be coming soon. Some are being held over for peace keeping actions but even those will be back by the end of the month.

He cleans the house every week and goes shopping for new shirts just like Church likes them with Tucker and repaints the bedroom the color that Church had always wanted it to be with Simmons and tries not to think about how the time between the letters had grown longer and longer before they had stopped. How they used to be filled with declarations of love and silly stories and promises that he’ll be back. How they turned into promises to come back and declarations of love and no silly stories because Church didn’t write about serious stuff anymore. How they turned only to reassurances that he loved Caboose more than anything, but the promises were gone. How the last one was only a few hastily scrawled lines apologizing for how little time he had to write and how shitty the food was and how the word love didn’t show up once.

The old man that ran the hardware store comes back and reopens and Simmons goes to work there. He doesn’t talk about the things he saw, but when Caboose prompts him he joins the quiet weekends at the bar with Caboose and Wash. They’re all waiting for something, but none of them can say just what. Caboose thinks for Wash it’s waiting for the memories to go away. For Sarge it’s something that has to do with the young man that Caboose remembered working at the store who kind of looked like Sarge but wasn’t there anymore. For Caboose it’s Church.

The evening news says the peacekeeping troops are finally returning home after two months, marking a true close to the war.

Caboose doesn’t call anyone. Doesn’t move to fix the creak in the front door that drove Church crazy, or dust the living room or turn on the television. When there is a knock on the door he doesn’t move because it hurts. Church would have a key. The knocking turns to pounding. He gives in, slowly goes downstairs in Church’s robe which is way too small for him, and opens the door. Tex pushes past him without even saying hello, closes the door with her foot, and drags him upstairs by the collar of his robe.

She doesn’t ask what is wrong. She makes him shower and change and eat and clean. She stays in the guest bedroom that they always told their parents was Caboose’s room, and every morning there is a new project. Fix the cabinets in the kitchen. Buy new plates to replace the ones that Caboose broke whenever he thought about Church because it felt good to see something more broken than he was. She gets the house set to rights in a week using him as her tool. They don’t talk about it. Tex wasn’t a good talker. Or a good listener. So they don’t talk about it, and when she drags him out on the weekend to drink with Wash and Sarge because she understands without saying what he needs.

He’s drunk when he asks her, and she’s blunt when she answers. No, she doesn’t know what happened to Church. No, she can’t begin to guess. No, she doesn’t know if this is going to turn out well.

It’s nice, not to be coddled, not to be reassured, not to be lied to. It’s nice to have someone else tell him what to do, because he does it, they both do it, just in case. And every weekend they drink. Tex disappears for a night to find someone to lose her own memories in, and Caboose curls up in their bed and cries to himself, his arms wrapped tightly around the bundle of letters that always seemed incomplete and didn’t end in an _I love you._

The evening news pretends like it’s all over and it’s all okay and Caboose throws the alarm clock through the television because it’s not over and it’s not okay and he hurts and no one will tell him _why._

Tex comes back on Monday, like she always does. A full month of her in the house and they don’t have any televisions because Caboose has broken them all and she doesn’t bother to push him to replace them. The mirrors are broken too, and shortly after that Caboose found the photos are all hidden away and he can’t blame her. It’s time to move on, because there is nothing else left.

“Michael,” she says, and it’s the first time she’s said his name since she showed up at the door. “We’re going into town today. Go get dressed.”

He doesn’t ask why, doesn’t care. Following her orders is rote. Showers, cleans his hair, shaves like she expects him to. Dresses in his favorite button up shirt because he feels stronger when he has Church’s favorite color wrapped around his shoulders like a warm hug that has started to lose its force. Drags on the jeans that had always made Church sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist and whisper in his ear because he thought they made Caboose’s ass look just right. Resolves never to wear them again after today because he needs to let go.

They go to the fountain where he first met Church. Everyone knows they met there, and Caboose hates her for bringing him. But it’s the best place to say goodbye, isn’t it? A warm summer day just like that first time. People all around going about their happy lives, just like the first time. The sound of ducks in the water paddling about and quacking happily. Just like the first time. Tex makes him sit at the edge of the fountain, orders him to stay there, and Caboose looks up at her with tears in his eyes and doesn’t say how it hurts because he can see that she knows. That she knows she’s betraying him, and he can see that she doesn’t care. She runs off somewhere, leaving him alone, and were it not for the pain in his chest and the tears in his eyes it would be like the first time.

All he would have to do would be to look up and there would be a man glaring down at him, grumbling something about Caboose being in his spot. Mumbling something about wanting to feed the ducks. Asking him to scoot over.

“You’re in my spot.”

Just like that, except it had been rougher. A bit shy with a touch of anger and nervousness. This was soft, sad, and sorry. But it’s enough. Caboose looks up, he hadn’t even realized he’d buried his face in his hands to cry. Follows the familiar color of uniform pants up into uniform shirt into a face with a scar cutting across the lips and another above the brow and somehow framing those beautiful blue eyes and too-short black hair and he’s on his feet pulling the shorter man into the tightest embrace he can imagine before he can even process it.

“Church,” he whispers into the not familiar hair, and feels the hands that were stronger than he remembers dig into his shirt and lets his fingers splay across a muscular back that should never have been a thing.

“I’m so sorry,” the familiar voice whispers back. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

There are tears in the voice, and Caboose wants to tell him not to cry, but he can’t. He won’t. Because he’s crying too and holding and clinging desperately to his love because he’s back.

“I love you,” Church is whispering furiously into his chest. “I love you and I missed you and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Caboose promises. “Please stop crying. It’s okay. Please. One of us has to not cry and it’s not going to be me.”

Church pulls back just enough—he was stronger than Caboose remembered because he can pull loose from Caboose’s grip and that had never been a thing before—to look up and his eyes are brimming over and he’s swallowing hard.

“It’s not gonna be me either,” Church whispers and Caboose just holds him tighter until they’ve both cried themselves out.

It takes a long time.


End file.
